


Something Beautiful - Ficlets

by KalendraAshtar



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Rom-com
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:30:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalendraAshtar/pseuds/KalendraAshtar
Summary: Ficlets set in the Something Beautiful universe, some predating the arc of the story and some missing moments.





	1. Splash

**Author's Note:**

> Look who is back!! This is the first ficlet set in the Something Beautiful universe and it seemed right to start at the very beginning, the pre-Duck days! This one is told in Jamie’s POV. Much love X

##  **_Ficlet I - Splash_ **

Ten metres separated the diving platform from the mass of water below; but it felt like  _free-falling_ when I first caught a glimpse of  _her_ , walking down the steps of the stands during our team’s afternoon training session. It was no more than a movement on the periphery of my vision, as I breathed deeply preparing a forward two and a half somersault - and yet a brutal acknowledgement hammered into my brain, like I had been waiting for her since the very beginning, perched on the edge of something dangerous only she could save me from.  _You don’t know yet, and I’m only starting to discover, but you were meant for me._

During a dive, you must achieve a movement that doesn’t disrupt the water at entrance - it should remain imperturbable, almost unaware of the fact of sudden togetherness. Regretfully, that moment of perfect inner rumble-bumble, just before the jump, resulted in my body coming off the metallic staging already unbalanced, projecting me into the water with a flashy splash of water.

Underwater I could only listen to my heartbeat ( _it would never shut up about her, from that day onwards_ ), effortlessly breaststroking my way across the diving pool in long, calculated, movements.

When I emerged, I had the first real glimpse of her face, peeking curiously at me from the edge of the pool. Her curls were unruly, reminding me of the swept of winds over thistles on the moors, and her face was delicate yet endearingly expressive; but the peculiar colour of her eyes  _(the colour of mystery, of dark honey, of things to lose yourself with_ ) made my leg cramp and I coughed as chlorine-taste water swarmed into my mouth.

“That was brilliant, Fraser.” Frank slowly clapped in mocking, grinning next to the newly-arrived, a towel dangling from his shoulder. “If the idea was to make a  _bloody tsunami._ ” He clicked his tongue. “You wouldn’t say from this amateurish display, but James Fraser  _actually is_  the best diver on the team, Claire.”

“I think I might have disrupted his concentration.” The woman threw me an apologetic glance, biting down her bottom lip. That perfect little indent was made to be kissed,  _and sucked_ , and I felt a rush of blood to my groin that made me queasy ( _and terribly embarrassed, although no one would notice it submerged in the mild water_ ). “I’m sorry, Frank told me it would be alright to swing by and watch your practice.”

“Dinna fash.” I pushed myself up from the water, finally deeming it safe, brushing my ruddy hair back ( _suddenly worried about the fact that I hadn’t shave my stubble in a couple of days and that I was wearing my oldest training kit_ ). “It’s my fault really, I should stay on top of my game no matter wha’ happens in the vicinity” ( _even when you come to turn my world upside down, I could be diving into the sky instead)._

“I’m Claire Beauchamp.” She beamed ( _her posh english accent like an ice cube deliciously sliding down my spine_ ) and offered me her hand to shake. I took it, craving to discover whatever I could about her -  _the way she clearly gripped her pen too hard, creating a little callus on the root of her ring finger; the care she put on keeping her hands smooth with moisturizer; the fact that my own palm was broad enough to take the whole of her hand to itself, my lines greedy for her every inch._

“Jamie.” My eyes quickly jumped to Frank and then back to her; the unexpected horrible doubt ( _lightening tinged with black, almost cracking my skull_ ) that she might be more to him than a friend making me shiver, in spite of the warm temperature inside the swimming complex. “So, ye’re Frank’s -?”

“ _Friend_.” A light blush on her cheeks made me curious ( _I wanted to inspect it up close, with the corners of my mouth against her ivory skin)_ , as she hurriedly explained. “We’re good mates and I’ve come to derail the healthy gentleman here for some pints at  _The Printshop_. You’re welcome to join us!”  _The Printshop_  was one of the most popular pubs amongst the crowd of  _North East Scotland College_ students, with affordable prices and an easy-going atmosphere.

I didn’t talk much that evening, slightly awkward and dumbfounded, my senses completely overwhelmed by Claire’s presence. I pushed down my throat large bites of her laughter and the wonderful shape of her body with sips of stale ale. We parted at the door almost at closing time and she kissed my cheek with a whispered  _“I hope to see you soon, Jamie.”_

On our next training session, I had to seriously refrain myself from pressing Frank for more details about Claire, opting for a vague mention of going back for drinks sometime next week. My teammate commented that she was fairly busy with incoming exams, and I darkly contemplated the thought of a long month without meeting her again. In spite of my ruminations, I frequented  _The Printshop_  at least a couple of nights a week, cradling the small hope  _(cranky, wailing)_  of seeing her again.  

And that’s how I found myself in a sour pickle with Malva Christie, unwavering in her attempts to persuade me to go out with her on a date ( _I was hardly a monk, but the lass was spoilt; and even more so Claire had nestled on my wame like a living thing, breathing and wishing, with a will of its own_ ). I nursed my drink begrudgingly and struggled to remain distantly polite.

“Oh, there you are,  _love muffin_!” A hand squeezed my shoulder possessively and I almost fell from the chair when I realized it was  _Claire_ and shewas somehow referring  _to me_ , her elegant hand ( _diaphanous, like gossamer_ ) gripping my frame. I gawked at her, thoroughly fazed, and she surreptitiously winked at me. “Sorry I’m late, my _handsome bandit_ , but you know how Professor Raymond gets carried away talking about old plagues and poisons. Fascinating stuff.” She casually sat down on my lap, balancing on my knee like a lazy cat, her eyes turning to my insistent companion in suspicion ( _very convincing, even to me_ ). “And  _who is this_?”

“Malva Christie.” The girl pursed her lips in profound distress, eyeing us with utter contempt. “I didn’t know you had a…. _girlfriend_ , Jamie.” Her long pause blatantly indicated that the term “ _girlfriend_ ” hadn’t been her first pick to honour Claire with. “Willie guaranteed me you were single.”

“Well, he surely isn’t  _married._ ” Claire laughed coquettishly, repeatedly patting my chest in exuberant affection. If she had claws, I was sure she would have scratched me for impact. “It’s fairly new but we’ve been seeing each other. Have we not, hon?”

“ _Plenty_. We have been seeing  _plenty of each other_. My eyes are almost tired from seeing you so much.” I swallowed hard and nodded furiously along with my incoherence, softly slapping the side of her thigh ( _a display of male bravado that felt timely, if ghastly_ ), furrowing my brows in a silent apology when Claire jumped a little in surprise. “Sorry you were misinformed, Malva.”

“It’s college. People can’t keep up with every fling.” Claire shrugged and her palm caressed my cheek, from temple to jaw and I fought the urge to suck on the thin skin on the base of her thumb. “But I’m keeping this one, I can tell you that.” She leaned a little over the table towards Malva, as if to share a scandalous secret, her arse pressing enjoyably against my lap. “Jamie has a shark tattooed on his left buttock. You can ask around, almost no one knows this. I’ll leave it to your imagination, why he would be carrying around such a  _warning sign_.” Her broad smile was paired with a shameless wink, propelling the nursing student to offer us a charged look and to  leave with a few mumbled words of excuse.

We waited for a few seconds - holding our breath in suspense - to guarantee that the scorned woman wouldn’t make a reappearance to ruin our ruse, and then both of us roared with laughter as Claire slid from my lap and into the booth beside me ( _I felt suddenly cold, incomplete_ ).

“ _Christ_ , Fraser.” She cackled, brushing away tears from hilarity. “I’m sorry I intervened, but I was watching from over there and the wench seemed ready to order some cutlery to feast on you.” She raised a brow comically, taking a gulp from my cold beer, her mouth leaving an echo of her lips just next to mine. “I hope I didn’t misread the situation.”

“You didna.” I shook my head, offering her a grateful lopsided smile. “I was about to fake a medical emergency to get away from the lass, so thank ye kindly.” I rubbed my chin in a thoughtful manner. “ _A shark on my arse,_  though?”

“Well, seemed more manly than a goldfish.” Claire explained, waving to the waiter to ask for a drink for herself. “And it had to be scurrilous enough for her to stop yammering.” She stopped and glared at me, somewhat sheepishly. “Look, I know we’ve only just met and I hope you don’t think me  _completely mental_. I just happen to have a rare and serious form of  _footh-in-mouth disease_ ”.

I smiled reassuringly. “I find ye wickedly witty, actually.”  _And breathtaking, stunning, sublime, funny, intelligent, straightforward, daring._ _I find I want to invent new words just to define what is so rare about you that moves me so -_ but that, I didn’t tell her _._ “Is there any way for me to repay your kindness?”

“No worries.” She gesticulated her hand in dismissal, stealing a bowl of salted popcorn from the next table - the two occupants too entertained with the fine art of swallowing each other to complain about missing corn delicacies. “Women who can’t take a hint are just as bad as men prone to catcalling. And you were being quite clear with your lack of interest.” Claire snorted, shaking her glorious head of brown curls. “I’m sure you’ll help me too, whenever I need it.”

“Aye. I will.” I touched her misted glass with my own drink in a silent toast. The nearness of her caused in me the most disturbing reactions - breathless in one moment and barely able to form a sentence; then jubilous enough to laugh and talk endlessly.  _This feeling, what’s its name, what are you_. “Maybe this is the start of a bonny friendship.”


	2. October 20th

##  **_Ficlet II - October 20th_ **

Although my foot was still severely sore and sporting a bruise coloured like mustard, I couldn’t suffer another day confined at the house - particularly not after what Geillis had revealed to me fairly late the night before, her voice almost squeaky with excitement:  _“I hooked up with Frank, hen. It just - it happened. I think we might become an item.”_

Her revelation took all the oxygen out of my room and I felt like I couldn’t breathe throughout the early hours of dawn, when shadows grew slimmer and longer on the wall, like terrifying hands seeking me out. Limping and cursing between teeth, I stuffed my laptop, books and notes on a backpack and ventured outside precariously balancing on crutches, heading to the library at the pace of a thriving ninety-year-old.

I pretended to concentrate on my Pharmacology homework, sitting at my favourite oak table on the reading hall, furiously crossing out my entire answer when I realized I had just killed my hypothetical patient in a very gruesome way. I sighed, defeated, and leaned my forehead against the hardcover of the book in front of me, closing my eyes.

“Here ye are, Sassenach.” Jamie’s voice startled me and I jumped out of my reverie  _(where Frank came to tell me all of it had been a mistake, a terrible error, serving only the purpose of realizing how much I meant to him_ ), haphazardly looking around to spot him. My friend had moist mussed up hair, probably not properly combed after practice, and looked at me questioningly as he set down his own rucksack on top of the table. “I texted ye a dozen times. I was about to start handing out pamphlets with yer picture on them and a bounty for yer capture.”

“I forgot my phone at home.” It was a step away from the realm of sincerity; in all truth, I had deliberately left it on my nightstand, fearing Geillis would decide to give me a play by play as she shagged Frank on our living room sofa.  _Yuck_. “That’s very generous of you. How much was the reward?”

“Five quid, if they brought ye alive.” Jamie smiled and, noticing my injured foot discreetly propped up on the chair in front of me, slid to the seat next to mine.

“That’s how much my presence is worth to you?” I pretended outrage, shaking my head in disappointment, as I threw my eraser at his forehead. “At least a tenner,  _for Christ’s sake_ , to show you really mean it.”

“Belter,  _Sorcha_. So, what’s up?” He frowned looking at his property law tome, as if the book had personally offended him. While Jamie was a fairly brilliant student ( _sharp, hardworking, shrewd_ ), I knew he was struggling quite a bit with the perspective of a career in advocacy. “Why are ye hiding in the library on yer birthday?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s  _not_ my -” I halted and gawked at him, slowly counting the days already gone from that brisky October.  _Twenty_. He raised a brow, amused by my obvious lack of time orientation. “ _Oh shit_. I’m  _twenty-fucking-two_  and din’t even realize it!”

“Ye would have sooner, if ye didna went all  _Hermione-Granger-deals-with-her-issues-in-the-library_  on a Saturday morning.” Jamie placidly sharpened his pencil, tapping it afterwards on the edge of his notes. He tilted his head to glare at me, a whiff of spearmint shampoo, subdued chlorine, rosewood and vetiver from his perfume hitting my nostrils like a warm cloud of  _Sirocco_ wind. When he talked again, his voice was low and careful, each word judiciously chosen. “I went by yer apartment. Saw Geil and Frank going out - hm,  _together._ ”

“Yes.” I pretended indifference, quickly turning the pages of my pocket-sized handbook in search of a particular antibiotic. “I think  _they are_  - hm, they’ve been _involved in_ -”

“ _Hochmagandy_.” Jamie finalized for me, drawing a slightly crooked smiley face on the corner of my scrambled jottings.

“You Scots make it sound  _so grand._ ” I snorted half-heartedly, squinting to decipher the small lettering in front of me. “But  _yes_. That’s the general idea.” I read a few paragraphs in silence, eventually raising my eyes to notice Jamie looking at me intently, his pencil dancing between his able fingers.

“I’m taking ye out to celebrate yer birthday.” He announced softly, his thumb grazing his chin. “And that’s non-debatable, Sassenach.”

My brows shot up to my hairline and I grabbed the handle of one of my crutches - carefully placed against a nearby shelf - and waved it in the air, like a strange flag marking the last lap of a race. “I’m not exactly in _trip the light fantastic_  shape, Fraser. I know you like your quinies skinny, but I think you can do better than to dance with my stick.”

“Well,” Jamie grinned confidently. “I don’t think ye’ll need yer feet much where I’m taking ye.”

***

As part of his privileges as a diving team champion, Jamie was well acquainted with the whereabouts of the keys to the swimming complex - which janitor was somewhat careless with the placement of the bundle of keys, who read the newspaper on work hours, how quickly a metallic object could disappear inside someone’s pocket. Jamie confessed his treachery while he sneakily guided me inside (undoubtedly something an upstanding lad like himself would duly repent for) through a lateral door, carrying a sports bag where he had instructed me to store a swimsuit, a towel and some slippers ( _bossy man_ ).

“Some friends will be joining us later.” He promised, pointing the ladies locker room so I could change. “But I thought some soaking up in peace first would do ye good. I’ll prepare everything while ye ready yerself.”

When I hobbled out of the changing room, feeling like the unsexiest creature to ever sport an emerald green swimsuit paired with crutches, my jaw almost dropped to the floor. The bottom row of the nearby stands had been decorated with little lights ( _shaped like small rubber ducks, I realized_ ) and several extravagant floats cruised on the clear blue waters ( _unicorns, flamingos, dolphins and even a lonely mermaid_ ).

“You did all of this?!” I stammered, noticing a duo of white  _Apple_ speakers and a couple of baskets filled with food and drink to the brim, the other necessary ingredients to concoct an unforgettable celebration.

“Aye.” Jamie shrugged and fumbled with his hands, a light tinge of pink creeping on his high  _Viking_  cheeks. “I hope it’s alright. I had never planned a surprise birthday party before.”

“This is truly wonderful, Jamie.” I hugged his torso with one arm, awkwardly trying to maneuver my walking companions with the other. I tried to place my fondness and gratitude on that unassuming contact; to let him know how moved I truly was by his gesture and the unwavering friendship he never denied me. “Thank you for putting up with me these last two years.”

“Happy Birthday, Sassenach.” He gently kissed my forehead, like a blessing that was only his to give me, and grabbed my hand. “Let’s get ye into the water, until ye’re all wrinkled like yer auld age demands.”

“Erm, it might take me a while to get down there.” I frowned, trying to discern a safe way for me to get into the pool without completely mangling my injured extremity.

“I dinna think it will.” Jamie simpered, his eyes cloudy with the passage of dangerous sails in that blue ocean ( _ships to take over_ ), and in one swift movement he held me in his powerful arms ( _built for brave and daring things_ ,  _to strip away the prefix of impossible_ ). I only had time to squeal wholeheartedly, before he jumped into the water carrying me with him.

The pool was enticingly warm and the overwhelming boneless sensation was everything I needed to be relieved of my burdens. I floated with my belly up, watching the shapeshifting clouds above ( _a swooping hawk, a jumping horse, one index finger pointing, two lovers embracing_ ), visible through the glass roof of the arena, as Jamie did a few laps. Afterwards, he slowly hauled me across the water ( _the extraordinary feeling of magically gliding, creating ripples behind me, without any real effort_ ) and finally helped me into a unicorn float to be at leisure.

In all truth, I almost wished no one else would come; the sense of tranquility and quiet happiness in that moment seemed like such a fragile thing, which others would only break into a million little pieces, that I would struggle to puzzle together again.

“I have another wee gift for ye, but I’ll give it to ye later.” Jamie brushed a sticky curl away from my forehead, leaning on my float for support. “Ye seem happier now. Do ye want to tell me about what was upsetting ye earlier?” His jaw seemed somewhat tense, but I attributed it to tiredness and creeping cold from being permanently submerged.

I knew he wasn’t trying to pry, his concern being honest and caring, and I usually shared very intimate affairs with him with naturality; but what I was feeling was too convoluted to phrase -  _a crush never fully verbalized before, even to myself; a loneliness, seeping from a place where I craved something I couldn’t quite name; a disquiet I knew would follow me for a long time to come_. So, I chewed on my bottom lip and grunted a non-committal,  “You know me, I’m an overthinker. The end of term is almost here and I don’t want to mess things up. Plus, Geillis kept me up most night with  _Frank-talk_ and I barely slept, hence - you know -  _cranky_.”

Jamie quickly turned his face away from mine - but, for a frozen instant in time, I thought he seemed to be deeply disappointed,  _frustrated_ even; I waited for him to say something else, but the moment passed, and he playfully splashed water into my face as our friends started to appear.

One month after that day, Jamie told me he was leaving.


	3. Haiku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is actually a missing moment, set immediately after the chapter “Law of Cooling”. It is slightly NSFW. Thank you for reading and supporting this story I so love sharing with you. X

##  **_Ficlet III - Haiku_ **

You find odd bits of yourself in the strangest places, pieces scattered that you didn’t even know to look for, but that you receive with the deepest gratitude and amazement. I found one of those pieces – the one  _he_ had been guarding for me all along, which he had carved lovingly for over ten years to best fit the shape of me, noticing and respecting my evolving edges as a woman – on the cool tiles of his bathroom floor, with my haunches getting increasingly colder. It snapped into place, somewhere on a hidden cranny of my breastbone, when my body still pulsed with echoes of that remarkable man’s own creation.

“Maybe we should get off this floor, Sassenach.” Jamie’s hoarse voice whispered close to my ear, the curve of his bended knee impeccably fit against the warm place where my popliteal artery thrummed.  “I think yer arse is baltic enough.”

“You should know,” I snorted in amusement, nuzzling his shoulder. His vibrant skin smelt of salt -  _sea-salt and the one brokered from the waves of our lovemaking -_ , herbal soap and faintly of a familiar scent, that I eventually recognized as my own with a startle. “You haven’t taken your hands off of it for a bloody second. Don’t you have the appropriate gauge of it by now, Duck?” I quirked a brow, the strangeness  _(the newness)_ of his hands and my derrière in close vicinity still striking, something that was meant to be followed by a perfunctory pause.

“You have an arse to write poems about.” He asserted dreamily, gripping my naked buttocks in his palms with renewed intention, his fondness evident by the way his arousal was growing further south of our entangled bodies. “Maybe not  _sonets_  mind, but definitely a couple of verses. Or better yet,  _a haiku_  -  _”Round and perky, the bahoochie full of wonders, shaped for my hands._ ””

I roared with laughter, our bodies trembling in close proximity from my rampant guffaw. “Don’t let me smother your literary genius if the muse speaks so strongly to you on the subject, but I’m pretty sure you’re  _absolutely mental._ ” I grinned and kissed the small dimple on his chin, using a little teeth to create some extra  _va-va-voom_. “I gather that you’re an  _arse man_ , then.” Noticing his slightly befuddled gaze, I caressed the well-made planes of his abdomen with a daring hand and explained my point patiently. “You know, when men were created, they were divided into two main categories – the  _arse-posse_ and the  _tities-squad._ I’m thinking you’re probably an enthusiastic representative of the first group, with a lifelong membership card and all? _”_

He gave me a smug lopsided smile, managing to infuse just enough tenderness to liquify my abdominal cavity in an instant, the appreciation in his eyes like a new indoor sun ( _it shone just for me)_. “Hmmm, fair enough, but I think I’m more of a  _Claire-man_ , to be perfectly honest.” His parted lips traced my cheekbone, exquisitely slowly. “I like  _all of ye_ , Claire.”

Adso peeked through the bathroom door with a faint inquisitive meow, as if wondering about the well-being of the two foolhardy humans laying idly on the floor (his concern driven more by his meal schedule than out of true alarm for our bodily integrity, I was sure). Realizing our attention was otherwise occupied with some pressing endeavours, he trotted out to search for a warm nap nest, sparing us one last judgemental feline glance.

Undoubtedly feeling his own hindquarters uncomfortably nippy, Jamie raised from the floor with a grunt, the movement eliciting a harsh tenderness in his joints and muscles from all the night’s exertions ( _pre and post-rescue_ ). I couldn’t take my eyes away from his chiselled naked body, stark in the silvery first light of day, filtered by the grey clouds still looming threateningly over Aberdeen. He bent down and wrapped his arms around me, transporting me to the couch, where he carefully deposited me before he scooted next to me, throwing a soft quilt over our exposed frames.

“So,” Jamie hawked, his smooth voice sounding unusually hesitant, as if he was simultaneously eager and fearful of uttering the next few words. “Did ye -  _ye ken_  - like it wi’ me?”

I slightly turned my head to better look at him, my cheek pressed against the gentle curve of his clavicle. His eyes were fathomless, an indigo precipice that promised me an insurmountable and delirious fall, without the bone crushing impact awaiting at the bottom. “Do you want to know if I enjoyed  _having sex with you_ , is that it?”

“That’s a verra crass and blunt way to put it, but -  _aye_.” I marvelled at the possibility of inspecting the flush appearing on his cheeks close enough to actually feel his heat, _the song of his vulnerable blood_. He looked very much discombobulated and painstakingly uncertain. “I kent ye were… _pleased_. I know well enough the look on yer face when something strikes yer fancy, Sassenach, be it a warm blueberry scone or the feel of my mouth upon ye. But there’s more to it than just a fleeting moment of pleasure, aye?”

I hummed in agreement, breathless as to the point of almost choking with lust for him, memories of incredible pleasure flooding my brain - so close to the surface and still so corporeal, I felt like I could summon and relive them at once. “It was  _very nice_ , Jamie.”

“Good.” He caressed my wrist, his fingertips lingering on the bony slope as if he was preparing a dangerous climb over my marrow, and I could tell the subject wasn’t entirely finished yet. “And by “ _verra nice”_  ye mean…?”

I propped myself up on an elbow to better glare at his face, marked with a light smile and a hint of cautious defiance. “Do you really want me to grade your  _sexual prowess_ , Duck?”

Jamie rolled his eyes and lightly smacked me on the generous flesh of my bum, as he kissed ( _open-mouthed and ravenous_ ) the hollow of my neck. “Christ Sassenach, not  _grade_ , but maybe ye could elaborate a bit more than “ _nice”_ , aye?” He protested, offering me a narrow look, and continued between his teeth. “And they say  _men aren’t in touch with their feelings, mallaichte bàs_!”

I bit my bottom lip, distractedly playing with the moist auburn curls at his nape. I had never really mastered the art of transforming complex emotions into coherent and spontaneous words; out of the two of us, Jamie had always been the most emotionally intelligent and the one able to compose his heart into a single, all-encompassing, sentence ( _his soul tightly framed into the space between commas, his affection blossoming in a well-pronounced vowel)_. Throughout our friendship, he had learned to listen carefully to puzzle my meaningful silences and looks, without the need for me to speak them aloud. But maybe as my lover there were still a few things he  _needed me to say_ on occasion _,_ in order to make them true - and  _for him, I would try._

“It was different from every other time, with every other man.” I shared gingerly, brushing the inside of his thigh with the nail of my thumb, not in teasing but out of absolute need for the realness of him, for the parts of him that were now  _mine to grasp_. “It felt like  _being known_ and  _still loved_ \- it felt like you knew me and  _still chose me_.  When you moved in me, there wasn’t a part of me you weren’t loving - that you weren’t arousing.” I coyly raised my eyes to catch his awed and triumphant expression. “So, _yeah_ , maybe  _“mindblowing”_ instead of  _“nice”_  would be more descriptive, Duck.”

Wordlessly, Jamie’s mouth captured mine, a deep and unhurried kiss that brought our bodies into further closeness. He teased my nipple with his skilful fingers and I moaned nonsensical promises into his ear, palming his straining cock until he whimpered under my efforts and cursed huskily.

Soon enough we twisted from a lazy and slumbering position into something more feral and possessive, my hips half straddling him as our tongues clashed with abandon. “What about  _you_?” I gasped against his swollen lips, rolling my hips in one punishing motion that created delicious crescendo-friction between us. “Was it like you thought it would be?”

He took a moment to answer, brushing stubborn brown curls away from my shoulders, patiently gliding his hands down my breasts. “I fantasized about it often enough,  _mo nighean donn_. Sometimes - when I left ye home after dinner and ye were a bit taken with drink; or when we went to the beach, wi’ yer beautiful skin turned golden and the warmth of the sun about ye - I would think of tasting ye, of making ye come with my name on yer lips.” Jamie’s index finger voyaged deliberately down my spine, making me shiver uncontrollably, until he reached the starting point of the swell of my buttocks. “How it would be to lie beside ye and know yer body complicit with mine.” His eyes darkened and he delicately bit the sensitive skin of the top of my left breast, a touch of dark desire, provoking a keening noise from somewhere within me. “My imagination didna do justice to the wee noises that ye make, though. I feel larger than life itself when I make ye sound  _like that.”_

“I’m sorry it took me so long to know -  _to realize_.” I whispered softly, placing my open hand above his breastbone ( _his heart’s response steady, unwavering_ ). “We could have had  _years_ together already. I should have kissed you that day, when you graduated from the C _oastguard_  academy; I should have made love to you right by the door, amidst cardboxes with tupperwares and highlighters when you found me the perfect house.” I swallowed hard, my voice quivering. “I should have realized it was only perfect because  _you_ were just across the street. That everything led back to you.”

I felt his fingertips gently tilting my chin up, guiding me to look up to him. There wasn’t a trace of regret or judgment in his eyes or in the relaxed set of his mouth. “I might have answered differently then, but now -  _now_ , my Claire, I think that perhaps everything was as it should have been. So we could be ready for this -  _for u_ s. To cherish and recognize it for what it is. Maybe it was all meant for you and me.”

I meant to show him how inexplicably right I thought he was, with the things my body could take away and offer him back. Agonizingly slowly, I started to move on top of Jamie, even if we were still unjoined; everything was a liquid fire, creaking at distance in call for us to combust, and the slickness created made for an unrelenting dance. I liked to feel him  _that_   _way_ , to know him so unbearably close just on the outskirts of my body, the promised togetherness that we could still somewhat control. We gasped and trembled, breathing fast against each other’s necks.

The splatter of heavy rain thundering on the windowsill, sudden and powerful, made me slow down somewhat to gaze at the subdued storm. Plump raindrops bounced and jumped on the polished beige stone of the open window, invading the room uninvited. I hesitated, deciding if I should close it but instantly regretting the notion of parting from Jamie ( _even_   _for an inch, a heartbeat, a quick turn of his handsome mouth_ ).

“Leave it.” Jamie commanded softly, his palms enfolding my hips with purpose. “I’d like to make love to ye with the windows open.”


	4. Sun-Kissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is my entry in the One Quote One Shot challenge and a missing moment, set between Arc I and II. Much love X

##  **_Ficlet IV – Sun-Kissed_ **

While Jamie and I had spent several holidays together, both in Scotland and abroad, the novelty of packing up a bag with contents meant to be seen by  _my lover_ during a week in the sun ( _relaxed, playful, unhurried_ ) was inebriating. This time around we’d be sharing a bed and all the activities that went with it; even my practical and laid-back nature couldn’t resist a sneaky trip downtown to acquire a few handpicked new bikinis, flowy sundresses and luxurious undergarments.

The business of deciding a destination hadn’t been seamless; our new life together seemed to expand with possibilities, an open-spaced house without constraining walls to bump upon, and we were starved to experience everything,  _all at once_. Jamie suggested a snowtrip, talking in that spellbinding lilt about physical exertion on the ski slopes, followed by cosy fires at the lodge and mulled wine we could sip from each other’s lips. Even if the concept was undeniably appealing, my clumsy nature and patent lack of bodily coordination, quickly made work of discouraging me.

“I’ll end up with a bloody hip fracture.” I protested, scrunching my nose. “And we will be doomed to several weeks – maybe even  _months_  – of a remarkably unimaginative sex life, with a lot of physical therapy to cope with.” I tapped my naked hip with a dry snap, enhancing how I would be unable to rotate it in any significative way. “Unless you’re really adamant on beginning our practice early for our freaky eighties,  _let’s not_.”

Jamie, irritatingly prone to all sports and physical prowess, clicked his tongue in disappointment – but undoubtedly his horror of being condemned to perform an adaptation of the missionary position in perpetuity crushed any further protests. We quickly agreed on a sunny destination, where we could stroll ancient streets filled with golden sunlight hand in hand, and lounge at the beach with an unlimited supply of an alcoholic beverage of our choice. After some detailed  _Google Maps_  scouting; careful exploration of flights ( _too expensive, too long, too many layovers_ ) and resorts; and a heated debate on budget and time period for our escapade, we giggled our way through the booking of a one-week vacation in Malta - like two teenagers, planning a much-anticipated shag on a folded blanket on the back of a pickup truck, loaned from a complacent uncle.

On the eve of our trip I barely slept, excitement like a liquid thing filling every indent with a vibrant orange energy. Jamie, a firm believer of the sacred nature of sleeping whenever you had the chance, softly snored beside me unfazed, his regular breath against the curve of my neck making me dream of the warm breeze by the Mediterranean Sea.

Our flight landed in  _La Valletta_ , Malta’s quirky capital, around lunchtime. We pushed through the crowds at the small airport to swiftly retrieve our luggage, Jamie particularly eager to stretch his legs after being crammed in his seat like a reluctant yoga practitioner; the narrow aircraft clearly hadn’t been built to accommodate the progeny of Viking blood  _(“My bahoochie is that numb, Sassenach”_ ).

After dropping our belongings at our first accommodation, a lovely and airy  _AirBnb_  apartment close to the  _Grand Harbour_  that would shelter us for our city wanderings in the next couple of days, we scurried outside with a new groove in our gait ( _simple happiness, a kind of mindless sensuality from the warmth around us, an almost dance to the song stuck in our heads that was playing in the Uber’s radio_ ).

“What do you want to do first, Duck?” I asked Jamie between two generous bites on a  _pastizzi_ , a traditional fluffy pastry filled to the brim with delicious and creamy ricotta cheese, that I had acquired from a friendly street vendor, yapping in a comical blend of maltese and english. The food was a bit salty, like the winds coming from the sea itself, and tasted of light and a life under the sun.

He hesitated, throwing me a somewhat embarrassed look over his  _qassatat_ , fragrant with the pungency of cheese, peas and spinach mixed together. “I – Well, Sassenach –“

“I’m not going back to the room, Jamie!” I reprehended him with a laugh, interpreting his mortification as a veiled suggestion of an afternoon sweaty romp instead of  _proper touristic activities_. “There’s certainly time for that later, when our feet are a bit tired.”

“ _That wasna it.”_  He dabbed at this mouth with a napkin, jumbled, adjusting his aviator Ray-Ban sunglasses ( _he looked like a fucking movie star, a reloaded Scottish version of Top Gun_ ). “I was wonderin’ if we could just walk for a while with no destiny, while I hold yer hand?” Jamie said in a husky voice, mussing up his hair in nervousness. He was wearing blue shorts and a grey t-shirt that greatly complimented his beautifully-made-and-dutifully-maintained body, attracting coveting glances from both local women and sallow newly-arrived sightseers. “For sae long, it was everything I ever wanted – to hold yer hand and walk beside ye, knowing I wouldn’t have to let go.”

“ _Yes_. We can do that.” I breathed out, pulling his hand to force him to a halt in the middle of the cobbled street, my trembling fingers dislodging his sunglasses from the bridge of his sharp nose. I framed Jamie’s face, looking into his eyes for a long wordless moment – so that he was reassured, once more, that  _my hand was entirely his to hold_  –, before I tiptoed and kissed him deeply and languidly. From the doorway of a traditional house, where a couple of old Maltese women enjoyed the shade, came a whistle and a crude whoop.

“This time I’m ignoring it.” Jamie whispered in my ear, hugging me against him with confidence. “ _I’m definitely swallowing you_.” We chuckled wholeheartedly with the memory of our first kiss by the coastal road in Aberdeen, our foreheads pressed together, before we strolled down the street with our hands firmly linked.

The balconies and doors of the buildings surrounding us were an explosion of colour, as baroque cages of watercolour-painted birds, made of vibrant blue, saffron yellow, strawberry red and forest green. I stopped every few steps to take photos with my phone’s camera, while Jamie read aloud from a guide on  _Il-Belt_ ,  _The City_  ( _the destruction of the Royal Opera House during Wold War II; the nickname Superbissima; the Rising of the Priests further back in time_ ). During our route across the blurred yellow paths - as if every home had been made out of the sand’s pure grace - we enjoyed some rest inside cool stone archways, savouring ice-cream cones with the zing of Mediterranean lemons and almost too-sweet peaches. I took out my straw hat to allow my scalp to cool down a bit, parting my heavy brown locks from the moist back of my neck with my fingers, as Jamie studied the map on his phone and smiled at me with a glorious balminess in his eyes.

When our stomachs growled loudly, announcing a biological dinner bell, we found an inviting little restaurant with tables on a terrace, which allowed us to munch seasoned plump green olives as we watched the magnificent sunset. We were served lavish plates of  _aljotta_ , a hearty fish stew, thickened with garlic, tomatoes and rice, nicely paired with mugs of  _cisk_ , a locally brewed beer with a gentle flavour.

“My last memory of my father was in a place like this.” I caressed Jamie’s knuckles on top of the table, his piercing blue eyes lingering on me. Throughout the years I had shared with him the early days of my existence, printed in that faded and blotched ink of loss; but I’d never shared with him that particularly fond memory. “We were having dinner somewhere in Italy, the three of us. It was just before we came back to England and he –“ I paused and my boyfriend grazed the back of my hand with his lips, silently anchoring me to the present. “We were  _so happy_. He and my mum were always stealing small kisses and touches from each other and I pretended I was disgusted.” The white and red checkered towel lightly swaying in the dusk’s breeze seemed to wave back at the memory of Henry Beauchamp ( _the sky an unwritten epopee about the countless shades of pink, orange and blue; the very firmament a flushed girl under the eye of a lover_ ). “I thought I’d never find a love like that.” I smiled tenderly at him. “ _But I did_.”

“May we thrive and live  _to disgust_  our own bairns someday.” Jamie hummed, placing a curl behind my ear in such a way that his fingertips lingered there a moment longer than necessary. “Do ye feel like dessert, Sassenach?”

“Very much so.” I brushed my hair to the side, exposing the high column of my velvet-white neck – I knew he found it strangely irresistible. “But maybe not the kind that’s on the menu  _here_.”

Back at our rented accommodations, Jamie left the lights off and the large balcony doors wide open, so our naked bodies seemed like two ghosts meeting in the silvery air of the underworld, after millennia of roaming in search of each other. He sat me on the high dresser and slowly slid my knickers down my legs, nuzzling the backside of my knee and whispering about the alluring scent of my sunscreen, the stardust of freckles appearing on my marble skin and how I was  _“gantin’ for him”_.  What followed was the service of his mouth, determined in an unprecedented way as he kneeled before me, able of bending the rules of time in my favour  _(“give yerself to me, Claire”_ ).

Wednesday of our vacation week found us travelling to the isle of  _Comino_ , towards the famous  _Blue Lagoon_  area. After a more urban adventure, we were both eager to escape to the beach – me, for some much-anticipated suntanning time; and Jamie, to do some scuba diving since the country was a kind of holy-place for the diving-lovers in Europe, with reefs, caves and wrecks to no end.

“How did you persuade me to do this, again?” I complained mordantly, pathetically attempting to walk with my feet inserted into large fins. The ensemble formed by the partially dressed wetsuit, paired with the ridiculous ( _to me_ ) footwear and snorkel mask was ruining the desired effect of my sexy red bathing suit. I felt like some freakish nautical experiment that had gone horribly wrong.

“The possibility of a retribution of yer choosing, I believe.” Jamie offered me a lopsided smile, checking the valve of his own gear. Since he was a certified diving instructor, we were able to do an expedition on our own – a status I appreciated more than ever, watching him intently with his broad naked chest glistening in the sun, the sleeves of his suit dangling at his waist. I had spent years rationalizing how attractive he was –  _his body protected from my eyes by firm boundaries of close friendship_  -, so I enjoyed every blissful chance to gaze at leisure.  “That, and the promise of a full day of behaving like lobsters tomorrow.”

“Talking about reddish sweaty seafood,” I eyed his shoulders critically, where a slight pinkish tone was appearing. “Shouldn’t you apply some sunscreen, Duck? We aren’t really used to this merciless heat.”

“I’m a  _Highlander_ , lass.” He cocked a ruddy brow as if that was explanation enough, offering me a pair of much more comfortable dive booties to replace my fins. “We are bred to endure what others cannot.”

I rolled my eyes at his brazen cockiness. “Suit yourself. Us  _the inferior race of the lowlands_  will be using SPF 50.”

Diving with Jamie was like seeing a man erect himself into completion, more defined under that transparency, choosing a current to navigate that pulsed with his own heart. In the water, Jamie was in his element – and I was his guest, invited to share with him the sacredness of the ebb and flow. He twirled around me at ease, moving swiftly and effortlessly, as I excitedly pointed at a peculiar sea-creature passing by.

“You’re truly at home  _there_ , aren’t you?” I asked him later, when we were together curled on a towel, enjoying the late afternoon sun. My fingers were attracted to his small stubble, as his were attracted to the dimples on my lower back. “I feel like the sea has a part of you that only exists there. That I know more of you now, because of it.”

“Ye’re like the sea to me,  _mo nighean donn_.” He confessed in a low voice, before he brushed my lips with his.

***

“I’m trying not to gloat right now, but you’re making it  _so very hard_.” I covered my mouth with my palm, trying not to cackle at sight in front of me. “You look slightly overcooked, my lad.” I bit my bottom lip, examining the vivid redness of Jamie’s skin, fortunately devoid of the alarming blisters of a second-degree burn. “I thought you said Highlanders were made  _to outstand the fury of elements_.”

“I gather that only applies to drizzle, cold and gust, Sassenach.” Jamie admitted between clenched teeth, moaning softly when he rolled to his side on the bed of our resort suit, like a piece of extra-crispy bacon. “My whole body feels like it has been scrubbed with a hot chilli, except maybe the grand total of six inches.”

“Six inches, huh?” I snorted, picking up the bottle of after-sun cream from the nightstand. “And I had  _such plans_  for the last couple of days of our vacation. Not that I mean to sound insensitive.”

**“I know what ye meant, Sassenach.” He said, turning his head to look up at me. “Never worry, the six inches that are left are all between my legs.”**

“Too bad  _they_  don’t need rubbing at this time, then.” I raised a wicked brow and mercilessly squirted cold moisturizing lotion, with a faint whiff of aloe and camomile, directly into his scalding back, making him yelp aloud.


	5. Half a Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet takes place immediately after Jamie and Claire’s wedding (honeymoon ficlet, y’all!!) and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you have other requests! X

##  **Ficlet V – _Half a Moon_**

After nineteen hours of traveling in commercial airplanes - including three layovers ( _Aberdeen – Glasgow – Amsterdam – Abu Dhabi – Malé)_  -, followed by a bumpy, sweaty and slightly terrifying trip on a light aircraft ( _a matchbox for flying humans_ ) and speed boat, it was hardly surprising that Jamie and I kissed chastely on the lips before collapsing on the enormous bed of our Maldivian honeymoon suite. Exhaustion had a way of knocking out sexiness, and we had two weeks to enjoy being naked together in the sultry air.

But my slumber must have recognized the lingering tension of my body and the expectations created by being a newly-married woman – amidst chaotic dreams of bland airplane meals, arguments on the baggage claim desk and the immensity of crushing blue surrounding me, I fantasized of being woken by the mouth of my husband upon me and arriving at the lavish breakfast  _well loved_.

Thus, it was somewhat disappointing when I opened my eyes to discover the plush pillow next to mine empty of my favourite red mane. A note scribbled in Jamie’s jumbled penmanship read “ _Went for a morning jog. Meet me at the beach, Mrs. Fraser?”_

I turned the note several times on my hand, perplexed, half-expecting to find a “ _Got you, Sassenach – meet me in the shower!_ ”, but upon uncovering nothing else had to admit defeat and drag my mildly annoyed arse to put on a bathing suit.

Critically examining my reflection over my shoulder, clad in a shiraz-red trikini, I decided it was probably enough to ensure little time in public and our swift return to our water villa.

Carrying my light beach bag and my straw sun hat, I padded across the long walkway which connected the secluded water villas to the shore, where the main activities of the resort were located. Before too long, I was settled on a sun lounger, thoroughly smeared with fragrant sunscreen, like a buttered pale chicken ready to roast.

It was still fairly early, and my head was filled with a jetlag haze that made everything watery and somewhat strange, so I napped on and off under the balmy influence of the Maldivian sun as I waited for Jamie to return. Soon it became too hot ( _a trickle of sweat defying my bellybutton in a nagging race_ ) and I ventured into the absurdly clear waters, discovering they were a far cry from the briskness of Aberdeen’s ocean, like a liquid soup enriched by colourful schools of reef fishes and corals.

Lounging on my chair again to dry, I noticed a couple of indiscreet young women giggling openly near the beach bar, as they threw inquisitive and lewd glances towards something on the far left. It was without any great surprise ( _but a definite hint of pride and possessiveness_ ) that I turned my head to realize Jamie was running towards us.

His flaming hair was moist, subdued to roan and cinnabar, either from exertion or an impromptu dive to cool off at some point. He was wearing black shorts and a glistening naked torso, already acquiring a faint honey colour, with a grey t-shirt carelessly tucked on the waistband of his shorts, dangling in the air. Brown aviator sunglasses hid his mischievous blue eyes and for a moment I remained there, speechless, unable to believe I was  _actually married_  to this formidable man.

“Hey there, my bonny Sassenach.” He leaned down to peck my lips and I struggled not to hook my legs around his waist, pulling him down and on top of me.

“Fell of the bed, did you, Duck?” I peeked above the rim of my own sunglasses, raising my brows. “Abandoning your wife on the first morning of our honeymoon – I’m sure there’s some good ol’ Scottish lore disapproving of the notion and foretelling a world of unhappiness upon such bad omens.”

He laughed, brushing his arm against his forehead, and slumping on the chair beside mine. “T’was the jetlag, aye? Needed to sweat it off a bit.”

I braced on my elbows ( _a quick glance verifying that my bosom looked perky and promising underneath the red elastic fabric_ ), and replied in my most suggestive voice, “There were  _other ways_ to make you sweat, I’m sure.”

We had almost consummated our wedding on the beach near our house, amidst plaid and Wellington boots, but returned to find the wedding party still bustling. The sun was almost up when the last guest finally stumbled away, still singing, and we had rushed to the airport right after for the first leg of our journey. After nearly forty-eight hours of being  _Mrs. Fraser_  ( _his clan, his legacy, his heart’s blood_ ), I very much wanted the grace of his striking body against mine to make it real.

He cocked his head, gave me a lopsided smile, but said nothing else. Instead, Jamie stretched and yawned at length, the perfect arch of his body looking almost obscene under the heavy sunlight ( _secret-less, shameless, daring_ ).  

While the nagging feeling of purposefully being robbed of something rightfully mine didn’t fade completely, we enjoyed the sweltering sun for a while, commenting on the unparalleled beauty surrounding us. The broad span of pale golden sand allowed for significant privacy, with other lodgers no more than dots on the horizon or mild disturbances around the counter of the nearby bar ( _alcoholic beverages with little paper umbrellas and large slices of pineapple and cherries on the rim_ ).

Feeling uncharacteristically restless and predatory, I eventually got up and cooed a “ _I’m going to soak down for a while_ ”, sauntering towards the tranquil sea and expecting my husband to follow me promptly.

I swam languidly below the surface, my curly hair a weightless mass like a peculiar water creature playing around me, and eventually emerged at a significant distance from the line of sand. With a few powerful crawl strokes, Jamie reached my side with a delighted moan at the water’s temperature.

“It’s sizzling, hm?” I caressed the slope of my neck, making a point of how hot I felt  _everywhere_. “It barely makes a dent on the heat.”

“Aye.” Jamie leaned back, so he was half-floating on his back. “It might ruin me proper for ever going back to the  _North Sea_.”

I hummed in agreement, eyeing the firmness of the muscles of his abdomen. “I might have to take some clothing off to make it bearable, Duck.”

He jerked up, looking mildly alarmed, as I moved for the ties around my neck. “What -  _here_?  _Now_?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” I furrowed my brows and bit my lip, equal parts aroused and annoyed. “As I recall, you proposed inside a lake and we were naked. It’s our thing, isn’t it?”

“There are  _people_ here, Sassenach.” He made a tutting sound with his tongue, raising his palms in a splashing motion. “They’ll see us – or  _hear us_. Your wee noises can raise the deid. I’d rather not be arrested for public nudity and debauchery in a country sae far away from home.” And much to my chagrin, a couple chose that exact moment to start paddling in our direction with their boards, making me want to roar in frustration.

“ _Fi-ne, Duck_.” I mouthed, irritated. “Let’s do some snorkelling then. Is that safe enough for you?”

He grinned back at me, amused by the utter annoyance and dismay in my tone, and kissed me soundly on my right temple. I squeezed his left buttock in return, my fingers deftly gripping the slippery fabric of his swimming attire.

We had a wonderful time braving the underwater world, where curious green and hawksbill turtles drifted around us and fearless manta rays slipped against our skin, their accidental touch foreign and disturbingly slick. Jamie made me laugh wholeheartedly by imitating the half-scary half-hilarious face of a moray eel and I pointed a very small shark lurking ominously at the distance.

For lunch we took shelter at a small restaurant with a lovely seafront, enjoying mouthfuls of delicious green salads and creamy fish curry ( _Jamie traded his plate with mine, once he realized I liked his order better_ ), washed down with a local cocktail called  _Maldivian Lady_. All the time, while I giggled at something Jamie had said, observed the rosy tone of his sunkissed cheeks, or marvelled at the controlled grace of his toned body, my belly ached with a throbbing need, pulsing with the best, thickest, part of my blood.

“I’m going to the washroom.” I declared, giving Jamie a meaningful onceover. “Will you come with me – in case I… _get lost_ …in the great wilderness?”

He snorted and squinted at me, knowing all too well even my feeble sense of orientation couldn’t possibly make me go astray on my way to the bathroom on the back of the building. However, I gripped his hand firmly and pulled him with me.

“What are ye doin’?” Jamie asked, slightly breathless with surprised laughter, as I pushed him against the wall with my significantly less imposing frame, as soon as we were out of sight.

I positioned myself between his legs, starting to ruck up my white sundress. “I’m sure this was on your honeymoon list as well, Duck. I mean, don’t worry, I won’t last long - you made me wait long enough to ensure it. Fast and hard, so I can breathe again,  _please_.”

His eyes were several shades darker than what they had been with the reflection of water upon them, and he seemed thoughtful and decided, even as he caressed the curve of my waist. “Not here, Claire. Not like this. There is time for that later,  _mo ghraidh_.”

“Really?!” I hissed, my open fists bumping helplessly against his  _pectoralis major_  muscles in pure exasperation. “Did you marry me to make me sexless, James Fraser? Are you playing with me? What’s the point in all this?”

He tilted his chin and furrowed a brow, but before he could answer an employee of the hotel passed by us carrying an unstable tower of beach towels, and we came apart like magnets snapping away by some mysterious force.

“I’m going back to the villa.” I murmured, looking away from him and feeling ashamed in a manner I couldn’t quite explain. “You might want to go for another jog, while I cool down.”

***

Our villa was fairly lovely with the orange and pink light of sundown infiltrating through the wooden boards, cracks and slits filled with the promise of lingering warmth to endure the night to come. I barely enjoyed it, pacing and sighing like a tragic tropical prisoner, before I finally sat on the large bed, receiving the sun’s goodbye through the open doors of our private porch. My fingers mindlessly touched the engagement and wedding rings on my finger, reassuring me like magical objects with secret powers within.

“Claire.” Jamie’s voice sounded close and I turned to watch him coming in, looking cautious and beautiful in the half-light. “Is it alright for us to talk?”

“I think we need to.” I nodded, raising my chin in the hot defiance that frequently followed my deepest vulnerability. “Are you avoiding making love to me?” A ragged breath and then more words pouring out. “I get that we are married now and maybe some things ought to change,  _but_  –“

“ _It’s no’ that_.” My husband glared at me, as if willing me to understand some great mystery. “I’ve wanted ye for years, Sassenach. I’ve wanted ye through nights when ye didna want me back and through days when ye did. There will never come a time when my body and soul forget the difference between the two.”

“So why?” I asked in a husky voice, awaiting as he sat next to me. “What happened today? I mean, you certainly can have days when you’re not in the mood. I’ll probably have them myself. But then tell it to me straight,  _damn it_! Don’t deny my touch and tell me a lie.”

“Maybe I must ken that  _ye need me_ , sometimes.” Jamie confessed softly, entwining our fingers together, so that our wedding rings clashed against each other. “For many years, ye’ve told me how ye’d fancy a lad, but never really  _needed him_. It broke my heart a little, the thought that ye’d never ken what is to need someone so.”

His forehead leaned in and I allowed it to rest against mine, as I inhaled the smell of sun, sweat and sea on his skin. “And while  _I am sure_ of what ye’ve found in me, I’m not immune to my own weaknesses, my own – and maybe I need to hear it from yer mouth from time to time. Maybe I need to drive ye wild with want, to watch ye fight a little to lure me closer – and know we are always fighting the same battle for closeness.”

I touched his high cheekbone, royal and solid, and felt a great tenderness washing over me. “It’s a very hard thing to be a man sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Never told ye I’m not in the least vain and cocky.” He grinned self-deprecatingly, brushing hips lips against mine. “It’s a hard thing to be a man with such a lass. And also,  _the simplest one_ , at that.”

“I love you.” I told him, our eyes meeting fully. “I might never need you to change a lightbulb or to drive me somewhere – but  _I need you_ , Jamie.  _You make it make sense_. You’re the man they sing about in the songs for me.”

“Good.” My long-time best friend made husband smiled tenderly and pulled me into his lap. “Because I had a plan for tonight. To make it special for our first time together as  _Frasers_.” He rolled his eyes, emphasizing the evident mushy nature of his own words. “’Tis what I was waiting for.”

“Oh.” I tilted my head in curiosity. “What’s this great plan I’m just now hearing about?”

“Get undressed.” He kissed my lips, short and hot, the briefest trace of his tongue tasting me. It made me think of the day he trapped me against his door after kissing me on the road,  _arrogant and gentle_ , when I had realized this man had the way of me. “And follow me,  _mo nighean donn_.”

He walked outside, slipping his shirt away from his body, and I took off my dress and bathing suit before I followed him to the night. Jamie stood stark naked on the edge of the water surrounding us, the muscles on his back silvery and taut, his cock half-hard. He offered me his hand and I took it, before we stepped down together, until gentle water reached my clavicles.

“There’s a moon eclipse tonight. Soon it will be half a moon and then no more.” He whispered against my ear, positioning himself behind me. His large palm held me by the pubic bone, as the fingers of his other hand started to play with my body, with my need. “Look up,  _Mrs. Fraser_.” He bit my shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive curve of my neck. “Watch the moon change as I take ye.”


End file.
